


two sides of the same coin

by wafflesofdoom



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: every heartbreak has two sides.or, an episode coda to july 31st looking at both robert and aaron’s nights went after robert left the mill.





	two sides of the same coin

**robert**

Robert closed the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief as the rest of the world was finally blocked out. It had all felt so overwhelming, everything from the walk out the door of the Mill, the few metres he’d had to walk to get to the B&B, down to his brief conversation with Diane as she sorted out the keys for his room, everything about it had been  _too much._

Setting his bags down, Robert sat down on the edge of the bed, glancing around his surroundings. He’d never imagined he’d be back here again, mourning the loss of yet another marriage, mourning the loss of  _Aaron_.

But here he was, thirty one years old, and nowhere to go.

Robert had imagined he’d be settled, now, with a place to call his own and a life to be proud of, but maybe he didn’t deserve to be happy. Maybe he didn’t deserve to get any sort of happy ever after.

Maybe this was all there was to his life.

Wiping roughly at his eyes, Robert shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed beside him. It was early, still, early enough that he could go and join Diane and Doug for dinner, like she’d suggested, early enough that it would be strange for him to go to bed.

But he didn’t much feel like seeing anyone.

Robert stood up, surveying the room. Diane had given him one of the bigger suites, a double bed and a big wardrobe, an ensuite to the left of him. It was nice, sure, but it wasn’t as if it was home.

It wasn’t the carpet he’d spend hours agonising over, it wasn’t the colours he’d painted the walls, late nights in the Mill with only Aaron’s favourite music to keep him company, his husband out of reach, somewhere that Robert couldn’t help him, or protect him.

It wasn’t the bed he’d picked out, laughing in the furniture store as Liv urged him to test it out, the two of them jumping on every single bed as though they were kids. It wasn’t the bathroom he’d watched get fitted, imagining all the long nights he and Aaron could spend together, relaxing in the bath together, washing off the memories of a long day at work, doing stupid, easy domestic things like brushing their teeth side by side.

No, this room wasn’t much of anything.

It was just a reminder of all the things he’d  _lost_ , all the ways he ruined everything, all the ways he’d hurt Aaron.

Robert shook his head, turning his attention to his bags. He’d taken most of his stuff from the flat, leaving behind a few boxes and suitcases he’d pick up when he’d found somewhere more permanent than the B&B.

Maybe - maybe if he unpacked, he’d feel better. As though he was settled - like this wasn’t exactly what it was, a stopping point between the happy days of his marriage, and his cold, uncertain future.

It was like going through the motions, unpacking his clothes. Robert picked up shirt, after shirt, hanging them all neatly in a line, his suits and trousers following. In a matter of minutes, the empty wardrobe was full of all the things that used to make him feel like  _him_ , Robert Sugden, successful businessman, the man who always got what he wanted, when he wanted it -  _who_  he wanted.

Not anymore though.

Not now.

Robert felt like a shell of himself, an empty excuse for who he used to be.

He paused, as his hand brushed against a familiar purple material. Robert felt tears welling in his eyes again as he pulled the hoodie out of the bag, holding it close to his chest.

It smelled like Aaron, like the cologne Robert had bought him for Christmas, a woody scent he pretended like he didn’t love, raising an eyebrow at the price of it, but dutifully wearing it every morning all the same.

Toeing off his shoes, Robert quickly stripped himself off his jeans and shirt, puling the hoodie on over his bare chest. It felt comforting, like a piece of Aaron was with him, was keeping him warm.

Padding across the room, Robert tugged the curtains shut, plunging his room into complete darkness. He pulled at the heavy covers of the bed, easing himself between the sheets, the material scratchy and unfamiliar and not  _theirs_.

The tears didn’t come until Robert had settled himself into the mound of pillows, duvet pulled up around his chest as he took one last glance at the clock, the time ticking over to ten past eight.

_It was over._

_It was really over._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**aaron**

Aaron’s heart twisted in his chest as he heard the floor door close, Robert gone.

It had been close to impossible, to keep up his brave face, to let Robert leave. All he wanted to do was tug his husband close, and tell him all about how he’d missed him too, about how much he wanted him still, how much he loved him.

But he  _couldn’t_.

It would just end in tears all over again, and Aaron wouldn’t cope, next time around, next breakup. He wouldn’t, he knew in his heart of hearts he wouldn’t - and Aaron had to take care of himself, didn’t he?

He used to be able to take care of Robert, too.

Aaron noticed.

He noticed the limp, noticed how Robert seemed to wince every time he put too much weight on his foot, the half told story Adam had texted him about making a little more sense now.

He noticed how  _tired,_ Robert was, how the dark circles under his eyes were practically black now, exhausting etching every line on his face.

Of course Aaron noticed.

He always noticed, when it came to Robert.

Gulping down half of his can in one go, Aaron kept a tight grip of the counter, hoping a few steadying breaths and some Dutch courage would settle his nerves, give him the confident he needed to move from his spot in the kitchen.

Every inch of the house was  _theirs_. Not Aaron’s, not Liv’s -  _theirs_ , it was all theirs, and Aaron didn’t much want to be there alone.

But it’s not like having Adam over would help.

That would just remind him that this wasn’t his and Robert’s home anymore, that it was over.

The one thing Aaron had wanted for so long, was over, done with. How was that fair, eh? He’d waited for so long, wished for Robert for so long, and now, a few months into what was supposed to be the rest of his life, it was over.

He wanted to call him. God, did Aaron want to call him - call him, and beg him to come home, to come back to him, that he loved him and they’d sort it out. It’d be so easy, to just pick up his mobile and hit dial, and have Robert back around in a matter of minutes.

He couldn’t, though.

_He couldn’t._

Downing the rest of his can, Aaron set it down on the counter, and went about checking what was in the fridge.

Two portions of Chinese, both of their favourites, an extra side of spring rolls they never ate with dinner, always eating them as a midnight snack, sitting in the kitchen in their boxers, Robert always getting the hiccups because they were too spicy.

There was even dessert.

Chocolate cake, from that place in Hotten they both loved, a little hole in the wall cafe where they always seemed to end up on a Saturday afternoon, Robert half heartedly moaning about how Aaron always ordered hot chocolate when they did the best coffee for miles around.

He was starving, but he couldn’t face it, couldn’t face eating any of it.

Aaron quickly shut the door of the fridge, turning his focus to the kitchen table. Pride of place, there was a boxset of the Bourne movies, Aaron’s favourite. Robert had gone and bought them all, ready and waiting for their favourite Sunday tradition of a movie night, popcorn and all.

Aaron hated how tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the DVDs, memories of all the good days they’d had flooding back as he stood, alone and  _heartbroken_  in the house that was supposed to be their future.

He couldn’t stop the tears now, his surroundings blurring as he choked out a sob, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs.

Aaron just wanted his husband back.

It was  _all_  he wanted, he wanted it so much it hurt, it hurt to breathe, hurt to sit in  **their**  home and know he was facing a future alone there.

He didn’t  _want_  it to be over, however much he  _needed_  it to be.


End file.
